none of use is truly alone
by Scifiemz
Summary: The Doctor has touched many life's, some with out even knowing it, this is the story of just one of the many.


Doctor who isn't mine, If it was there would be far more kissing and lots of very naked captain Jack and tenth Doctor, though not at the same time ( you can have to much of a good thing you know lol) enjoy. 

None of use is truly alone.

April had been dreaming about the Doctor for as long as she could remember. 

It must had been started at lest before the age of six as it was at that age that mum and dad found out, if proved to be a costly mistake and the start of the rest of my life.

Its strange, not many people can remember much about them self's at six, but I can picture that day as if it was yesterday, sitting at our big old pine kitchen table drawing away madly, I was consenting so hard at getting the shape of it just right, I remember being really annoyed that I didn't have the right shade of blue crayon in which to colour it in with, the dark one was wrong but then again so was the light one, so I left it as a outline and started at the figure by its side, a man, not too tall and not too short, with longer hair than daddy but much shorter than mummy, with a long coat kind of like granddads fishing Mac, with a suit underneath, he had a thing in his hand like a pencil but I know it wasn't a pencil or a pen( though it could write) it was magic, just like the man and the box that he was stood next too, it was good magic, real magic not like that rubbish magician that was at Tammy's birthday party last month.

Daddy had come home then, had kissed mummy and walked over to me to see 'his little artist.' at work.

' So what are you drawing for me to day then sweet heart.' he kissed me on the fore head and picked up my picture. 

' Magic.' I said simply, looking up at my dad with a bright smile.

' Now wear on earth would you have seen one of these?' It was a question, mummy had told me a special word for it last week that I couldn't remember, but it meant it wasn't suppose to be answered so I stayed quiet. ' I haven't seen one of these since I was a lad.' he looked down at me and smiled warmly. ' When did you see a police phone box, sweetie.'

' In my dreams, what is it daddy?'

' It was used by the police in the 1950's and 60's , to call for help when they needed it 

, or now and then to lock up bad men.' I nodded one of my long dark pig tails falling in front of my face, I brushed it back. 'Why what did you think it was?' I grinned widely.

' A space ship.'

' Its not a very for a big space ship, or aerodynamic for that matter.' Daddy was always coming out with big long words that I didn't understand, but as he put it down in front of me to finish, I said with a giggle.

' Silly daddy everyone knows they are bigger on the inside.' He laughed, a booming wonderful sound that made me smile even wider.

' Of course it is sweetie, of course it is.' With that he ruffled my hair, and left to make a cup of tea.

The dreams stayed with me, dreams of the man and his space ship. In time I leant more about him, The Doctor, he was a Time Lord , and his space ship a Tardis, he travelled throw out time and space having adventures with his friends, the more I leant the more I drew, pictures of other worlds, of aliens and friends, of the Doctor.

Even at such a young age I found some things about him more than a little strange, as the Doctor didn't always look the same, sometimes he was a old man with snowy white hair and a grumpily expression, others younger with a velvet coat and twinkling eyes, he ranged from very short, to very tall, from happy and bouncy with a scarf of many colours, to sad and alone dressed in leather, longing so much to have the past back, all in all there was ten different men, all who called them self's the Doctor all who flow the Tardis and travelled though time and space, there was a word for his ever changing appearance, regeneration, the Doctor when he died could change his from so that he could live, I thought this was really cleaver.

I found that I liked the Doctor very much, even the grumpy old one, I loved to watch his adventures in my sleep, I felt like one of his companions, it was great fun to help fight monsters and out wit evil villains, it was the only thing worth going to bed for.

The only thing was mummy didn't like the Doctor, when I was 6, 7,8 and even 9 she loved me telling her all about my adventures in the Tardis, but as I reached ten she started to tell me to stop it, that I was too old for imagery friends and that it was time to grow up, I had thought she was just sad because grand Pa had died, but as summer gave way to autumn and slipped in to winter I know it was something more, it was near Christmas that day she took me to see the doctor, not THE Doctor as mummy kept telling me he wasn't real that it was all in my head, and not to tell any one as they would think I was mad, I didn't want to be mad, and I didn't wont mummy to be unhappy so I had stopped talking about my dreams to any one apart from daddy and Snowy my rabbit, and it was after the day she found me telling Snowy all about Cybermen that she took me to see Doctor Cabal, dad had thought it was all a waste of time, had kept telling her that I was a child ,that we imagined things and to stop over reacting, mum had gotten angry with him had run up stairs to my room and stated turning the whole place up side down till she had found my very secrete diary that grandpa had given me last Christmas, had opened it at a page with a sketch of a Darlek on it and waved it at him yelling about madness and the devil, daddy had said back something about weather or not mum intended on talking me to see a doctor or a priest at which she had replied that he wasn't taking things seriously enough that I was there only daughter and that I could be going insane for all he know, then had started crying, very loudly, just like when Peter had fallen out of a tree last term and broke his leg, Dad had gone over to her and surround her in his big arms and said something gently, and the next day I'm being whisked off to the Doctors with my baby drawings and my diary stuffed in a plastic Tesco's bag, I asked my mum if I had to go that I didn't feel ill or mad for that matter and that I was missing Get Arty on TV, they was going to tell you how to drew a realistic face this week , I wanted to see it they could teach me to drew the Doctor better, but I didn't tell mum this encase this made her angrier than she already was. 

Doctor Cabal was nice as GP's went he looked at my pictures, talked to mum for a wile then turned to me smiling gently and asked.

' Tell me April this man' he held up one of my old baby drawing of the Doctor with curly hair and a bright coat, ' Is he real.' Now my first thought was to nod and say that yes of course he was real, because he was, ok so I only saw him in my dreams but that didn't account for much, the Doctor was real and I know it, but last week my teacher, Miss Drake had told Ian Finley off for calling Lucy,( a quite girl with glasses how sat at the front so she could see better,) spec-y , Lucy had got upset and Miss Drake had put him in detention saying he needed to lean to think before he spoke, so that was exactly what I did, I thought long and hard about telling the doctor that things from my dreams wear real, mum had told me lots of times of late that behaving like something was real when it wasn't made me mad, and that wasn't good, which left me only one thing to do.

I looked up at him and smiled softly.

' No,' I shook my head. ' He's just made up.'

' And do you dream about him a lot?'

' Not lot's, just sometimes.' The doctor nodded wisely and turned to my mum and smiled.

' I don't think there is any thing to worry about, your daughters fine, just creative that's all, many children of her age are, you watch give her a year or two and she will grow out of it, give it four and she will probably discover boys and forget all about aliens and space ships, just you wait and see.'

But I didn't, and truth be told I didn't want to , I cared for the Doctor dearly and didn't 

want to lose his nightly presence, he was as much a part of my life at aged 14 as he ever was at 6, I just had learnt to not tell any one ,and to hide my diary better. 

Doctor Cabal was right about one thing though, by that age I had discovered boys, Mark, he was grate, with a kind glowing face that always smiled, shining deep blue eyes, thick black hair and a light welsh accent, his parents wear divorced and when his dad had moved to London for work he had gone with him, his mums new bloke had 5 children of his own and Mark couldn't stand the persistent noise, mum said he was weird which was yet another good reason for me to be friends with him, me and Mark got on well he was a total Sci-fi nut and was always going on about some book or film, so one day several months after we meet, I showed him my paintings, my art work had moved on considerably since my first drawing of the Doctor, now they wear in fine detail, I had painted many pictures of the Doctor and his world, pictures of his friends and enemies, of the worlds that he visited and the things that he saw , but the paints I was most proud of was my ten portraits, one for each of the Doctor's, each of them looked like it had been taken from a photo or a sitter, wear as really the only place they had been seen was my mind, there was nearly fifty paints and drawing it total each taking from a vivid dream, no one but me and Mr Johnson my art teacher had ever seen them, so it was with nervous energy that I spun my pen round a finger waiting to see what he would say.

' These are fantastic and you say they've all come from dreams?'

' Yep, each and every last one of them.'

' Amazing, and this character he's called The Doctor yer?' I nodded.' know with your art skills and my writing we could do something with this.'

' Like what exactly ?'

' Write a story, publish it online, I can see it now, we could even set up our own web site.' 

' I don't know about that.' I sweep the pictures in to a pile.

' Why not, you've got talent why not show it off.'

' Cus mum hates this stuff mostly.' he shrugged.

' So, who say's she needs to know.' I picked up one of my paintings, it was of the last Doctor, young in face but yet old and wise, I had painted him standing on a hill looking out to the horizon, quite and brooding the wind whipping softly at his coat, exceptionally wise and so alone, he deserved to have his story told.

' Only if I can help you write it, if you are going to tell the Doctor's story I want it to be the real story not something you have made up.'

' Yer sure.' then it hit him. ' what do you mean real, he's fiction surly.'

' I can't explain it, he's real but only he isn't and, stop looking at me like I'm insane Mark.'

' I didn't.'

' Yes you did.' I sighed and sat down heavily in a chair. ' I've been dreaming about the Doctor since I was a kid, and I mean a little kid and….' and that was it, I don't know why, but I sat there and told him the whole story, about me and the Doctor, and mum of course, and he just sat there silently nodding every now and then, till I finished at which point he ran a hand though his slightly longer than was fashionable hair and breathed out though his teeth.

' I don't know what to say about that, your not mad obviously, but still.' he shrugged. 

' It could be mind control I guess.'

' Pardon.'

' You know, some sort of mental thing, more like probing I guess, I don't know, what ever it will be its alien any way, you lucky sod.'

' What?.' I asked. 

' That is so cool, alien mind games, yer.' I laughed.

' Well if you are what passes for sane then I'm defiantly not mad, I mean really alien mind prob.'

' Well what do you think it is.' I looked at him straight in the eyes, which seemed even bluer than normal.

' I don't know, I never really thought about it.'

' Come on, if this has been happening for as long as you say it has, you must have come up with some theory, even if it is you going completely and utterly start raving bonkers.' turned slightly to look out of the window as the radiantly blue summer sky with only the bare minimum of clouds, the world suddenly seemed bigger than I remembered it and I had idea why, I felt my legs carry me to the window, and I stared out, past the play ground and field, up in to the sky, I felt like a bird it flight as a part of me soared higher and higher past the clouds higher in to the sky than any one can go up in to the darkness of the eternal night, in to the empty vastness of space, empty and so alone like the painting, oh so alone.

' because some one should always know him, so that he is never truly alone.' 

( right don't quite no wear that one came from, just started writing and ended up with this, lol, I hope you like it, there could be more to it if any one wants there to be, just write and let me know what you think of it, be nice please I've only just been dumped so am still a little fragile)


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